Rabid Sharks
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Prison Blog

In which Possum recounts his experiences as an offender in the system.

Possum Bones is autistic. He has identified as a dirty kid in the past, and he’s attended multiple rainbow gatherings. He has several years left to serve in the Washington Correctional system.

He has been making art since he could sit up. He communicates better in writing than speech. If you are interested in the experience of an autistic person doing prison time, check out his Prison Blog. If you are a fan of comic art, underground/outsider music, Lovecraft, Clarke Ashton Smith, Murakami, Cixui Liu, etc.

De gustibus disputandum

Why does it make me mad when people have bad taste and then insist that it's simply a difference of opinion ? It's one thing if it's an actual matter of taste. Like " Well, I just don't like ketchup/I dont like high pitched metal*/etc". But it's when the person has clearly so little of an understanding of the material and very little familiarity of the genre. It's like they just say they don't like something because in reality they're just too stupid to understand it, and they know it. So as a way of hiding their ignorance, they just say they don't like whatever it is. It could be it makes me mad because I could be wrong and maybe IM an idiot, but I actually don't think that's what it is. For one thing, I'm pretty confident in my tastes. I think the reason it makes me mad is because I'm trapped with these DUMBFUCKS who wouldn't know a masterpiece if it fucked them in the nostril. There's no one around me I can speak to in person who can challenge me in artistic and literary matters, literally NO ONE. And it's because I'm in prison in a pod for the mentally handicapped. I'm like Kamina in "Cromartie High School". And what' more, it's fucking tragic : The reason these people have no sense of taste in art and literature, or music, or really anything ... is because they've been fed nothing but processed CRAP for the entirety of their lives. The media equivalent of the SAD diet. Fast food story telling, which is salty and easy to eat, but requires no discerning palette. Cheap and gratifying to them, but a gourmand such as myself ( Pardon my ego ) would wretch from a single bite.
And I suppose on a pride level, it frustrates me that these neonates would deign to suggest to me that I indulge myself in their swill rather than the delights that great authors like Ada Palmer, Pat Cadigan, Warren Ellis, Alan Moore, and Pat Bacigalupi have to offer. They're so confident in believing themselves fulfilled by this drivel, and it's frankly an eyesore to me. I long to discuss the finer points of actual quality science fiction, comics , and horror with people who can understand and have a passing familiarity to a human being. I don't ask that they agree with me, I just want to know they disagree because they're different from me, not just because they're idiots. FUCK.

* By the way, I can't stand high pitched metal. I like stuff that sounds like it came from the belly of a zombie whale.

Elisa Carlson